A Fine Line
by Bellatrix's Weightless Tears
Summary: Jaqueline Follet notices Andrea in Paris during that week just before Andy leaves and also instantly knows Miranda cares about her assistant.


A Fine Line

Jacqueline Follet fingers pressed into her scalp, reaching down to remove her heels, slipping them off, leaning against the marble sink, she really needed to take a vacation soon, or date, she should try dating again, shaking her head bemused at that thought popping in her head, her dating pool at French Runway was seriously lacking in limitation to what she found attracting her desire.

Jacqueline knew one thing with surety, her sister if she had even got the slightest hint, she was thinking of starting dating, would set her up with horrific prospects.

Jacqueline, knew she worked too hard, blaming it on her competitive streak and classical European education, able to rhapsodize about art and navigate a wine list, although visiting champagne wineries were her one indulgence, deciding, yes a vacation to a warm tropical island or to resume dating would suit her.

Quite nicely.

It would give her some release.

Rinsing her hands, she had just been toasted for her accomplishment, feeling numb, Irv Ravitz was tolerable, and she could mold, persuade and shape James Holt to her liking.

Jacqueline smiled, in everything she had a dominant streak.

Fixing her Dior lipstick, she preferred unlike Miranda to take bolder fashion choices, her black corset paired with a tailored jacket fit to her slim frame, it was what was that saying, showtime.

Jaqueline's bored face changed at seeing her. Staring at her openly. Hearing her name, Andrea.

Miranda's Andrea.

Beautiful. Oh, Very much so.

It couldn't be. A cruel copy. With an eerie same nose and mouth, the same chestnut hue to her dark hair and Merde, those eyes.

Making her breath knocked out at the semblance, her own sharp eyes slanted, studying this new Miranda girl hungrily.

As equally an Ice Queen as Miranda Priestly is, she was more Avant Garde meets bondage in style, walking with a brisk nod of greeting with an air kiss to Suzy with her pompadour hair, as stepped away now being waylaid by Franca from Italian Runway, getting away with promises of lunch later in the week.

Pressing her mouth to air near Franca's cheek and the other, assuring they'd catch up on gossip.

Stopping dead at her. Watching the brunette by the side of a white-haired companion across the room, Jacqueline saw it. She just knew it, it had to be her, her Katie's Andy.

Watching her, now leaving Miranda's side.

"Miranda, that Andrea girl of yours, where is she from?"

Miranda's eyes blinked, "Andrea is from Ohio." Stilling. Why did Jacqueline want to know about Andrea?

Ohio. Merde. It was.

Miranda stared at Jacqueline Follet, who was smiling, in fact, she wasn't just smiling, she was infected by an immediate facial gaiety, her sharp cheeks were plumped with this smile.

Miranda had never seen Follet display anything like emotion.

She hadn't seen her Andy, since Kate came back to _him,_ forgetting her entirely, she'd been with her up until Andy was four, it had been a warm domesticity shared with Kate and Andy, from the moment they showed up at her door.

She made a lasting impression on her.

Like a lovesick fool for one unobtainable straight girl who held her heart, Jacqueline let her in.

Not knowing than, Katie May Sachs would shatter it.

Catching up with Miranda's assistant.

"Bon Jour, mon petit tuna mouse." Andy turned, her mouth fell open as if hit by a frying pan. "Jack?" she murmured out.

Jacqueline smiled, a real genuine smile that all Parisians were forbidden to indulge in.

Grasping Andy's arm, Andy pulled her into a full-on hug.

Miranda saw them, why was Andrea, her Andrea _hugging her_, gripping her fluted class tightly, deciding this wouldn't be tolerated, didn't Andrea know Jacqueline was a human reptile and right now attired in Dolce Gabbana lace skirt with a corset accompanied by a tailored Dior men's jacket that fit to her skin.

Jacqueline was a walking Helmut Newton ad.

They'd unfortunately once worked at Chic, vying for the same coveted role under Madame Yolande.

Her personal assistant.

Being the bitch Follet was, Jacqueline got it, only because she became Yolande's lover.

She was going to have a word with Jacqueline, as soon as Andrea stopped her hug, bristling rigid, not knowing why the sight was really bothering her, bothering her enough to stop her conversation with Franca, about her black pool and conversing about new photographer, she was recommending to her.

Miranda had been assured with motherly pride shining, Miranda agreed with Franca, that her son's work had something.

Excusing herself.

A pale hand gripped and held their arm, Jacqueline turned. "Miranda, can I help you with something?" her eyes still following Andrea's figure.

"I'll give you a warning Follet, stay away from Andrea."

Smirking at Miranda, Jacqueline's usual icy self-returned. "Miranda, so this Andrea isn't just an errand girl to you?" They switched to French; Miranda's grasp now pinched her elbow.

"Follet, I know about _your tastes-Andrea _is not one to try."

"Isn't she?" Jacqueline tilted her head to a side, studying Miranda, fascinated, she'd never seen Miranda Priestly like this, it was enlightening, so pod Miranda had a weakness, and was human, moving her own hand up to grasp Miranda's grip, covering Miranda's knuckles fluttering into a stroke, making blue eyes flint hard at Jacqueline touching her.

"Mira, but I've had her in my bed, frequently."

Miranda's mouth thinned at that.

Jacqueline's eyes sparkled, continuing to enjoy this immensely, usually these events were so dull, not today, Miranda looked like her head might explode.

"Your bed." Miranda waspishly repeated.

"Oui, she loved being in my bed. You know, I'm very accommodating to all my new bed partners." Neglecting to mention Andy was four at the time and afraid of monsters.

Justifying that Miranda simply didn't need those details.

Miranda's grip now, made her eyes almost water. Jacqueline had her. Letting go and leaving Jacqueline staring after her.

Picking up a champagne flute, clutching the delicate glass, Miranda was so blind, blind to something huge and wonderful and clearly right in front of her, she was clearly head over Chanel heels for Andrea.

Merde, Miranda losing control would be something to witness.


End file.
